


Turkey Dinner

by JustABeeWithAPen



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: First time writer, Minor Violence, One-Shot, The senseless slaughter of a gobbler, Wilson being low key crazy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:29:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26168677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustABeeWithAPen/pseuds/JustABeeWithAPen
Summary: Wilson kills a gobbler before thinking about life. (A small little one-shot)
Kudos: 8





	Turkey Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second ever story but this time I had a beta reader (a close friend of mine) so hopefully it'll be better! I'm slowly trying to get used to the Don't starve characters so maybe you'll see more from me. Don't hold your breath though.

Adrenaline pumped through his body, giving the normally frail muscles that extra “kick” they needed. Clammy fingers gripped the wooden shaft of the crude, homemade spear tightly as he drew nearer and nearer to his prey, his stubby legs working extra hard to close the distance. His arms tensed up, preparing for the final blow, before bringing the weapon down with a woosh. A sickening thump of rock hitting meat, before a cry of triumph filled the air.

“Finally! You shall plunder my crops no more!” Wilson exclaimed, holding the now dead turkey with a manic smile. Deep sunk eyes and a mane of wild black hair caused the gentleman, and self proclaimed scientist, to look quite crazed. If anything, by now he more than likely was. The determined survivor had been hunting the fat bird, lovingly referred to as a Gobbler, for several days now. More than half his crops had been lost to the fowl beast as it’d been haunting his crops since the start of the season. The damned thing moved extremely fast for a bird of its size, in fact the only reason he’d been able to catch it was after painstakingly stripping every bush in his base of their berries and stacking them in a trap. Having a brain not even half the size of it’s eyeball, the creature fell right for the trap. It would have worked better, having strangled the creature's wing, if the rope holding it together hadn’t snapped. Wilson had been forced to chase the hobbled bird up and down the island he was trapped on before finally catching the wretched thing. But at last, it was gone for good, leaving one very happy Wilson behind...

“You shall make for some divine stew,” he cooed, giggling softly--which didn’t help his appearance at all. “Or maybe I’ll baste you in a beautiful berry sauce, made from the bushes you’d been stealing from all Fall!” the giggling turned into full on laughter as he tossed the bird onto his back and started on his way home. At the thought of food his stomach grumbled, reminding him why he’d gone on this little adventure in the first place. The seasons had begun to change and as the sting of the cold air grew stronger, Wilson knew winter was almost upon him. That meant stockpiling food was a must--if he planned on surviving at any rate.

This was the scientist’s second winter in this god-forsaken world, having just barely scraped by the first time around. Both nights and days had been spent huddled around the fire, surviving off the seeds and occasional berry dropped by passing birds. Almost freezing to death combined with constantly being on the brink of starvation made for one lousy Christmas. Wilson had no plans of repeating that mess.

After around a half an hour of walking--time worked differently in this world and if Wilson wasn’t fighting for his life he’d be studying it feverently--he reached his base. Crude and thrown together, the little home away from home met his needs. It didn’t do much else but one couldn’t expect much in this wilderness. Sidling up to the fridge, Wilson tossed in the bird carcass, much too tired to skin the fiend. As always his body ached and his stomach throbbed, but he was more than used to ignoring those sensations. Instead he navigated himself to a small bedroll made of grass, placed deliberately as close to the fire pit as possible without lighting the thing up. Sleep was considered a precious commodity in this world, and something he got quite rarely. How his body could even function without it for months at a time was yet another mystery he had yet to unravel.

Despite what it seemed, he had no intention of sleeping right now. Gently he laid back against the somewhat itchy grass mat, woven by hand, sighing deeply. Just a small break, that’s all he needed, giving his aching muscles time to rest. Afterwards it was back to the grind, as always. That horrible bird had eaten most of his storage along with all of his bushes, and their meat was only good for a couple of days. Venturing out to gather anything edible was an absolute priority. Food was the hardest thing to find when the snow fell, as bushes would no longer grow their berries, and fishing holes froze over. Collecting grass would probably be a pretty good idea as well, his traps were gathering more holes then rabbits. Finally… there were the hounds. 

Wilson flinched slightly just at the thought of the terrible canines. A constant source of danger, the blasted things were visiting on a weekly basis almost. 4 to 5 would come bounding through the wood to his north, Baying loudly and thirsty for his blood--along with any unfortunate rabbits along the way. While at first it hadn’t been too hard to kite the beasties around, jabbing them with his spear between bites, that strategy stopped working when the things managed to learn how to spontaneously combust into flames after death. That and the ever increasing frequency made dealing with them less of a nuisance and more of a legitimate threat. 

Being the incredible scientist he was though, Wilson had developed a system for taking care of the overgrown mutts for him. A clever combination of their teeth and rope made for the perfect death trap, bringing down the hounds with a terrifying effectiveness. They were scattered all around his base--having nearly lost a foot to one numerous times--providing protection on all sides. As long as he wasn’t stupid the devices did much more good then harm, and were well worth keeping around.

Yet another loud grumble from his stomach reminded Wilson he had to actually do those things for them to get done. He let out a deep and heavy sigh, sitting up and stretching his arms along with cracking his back. That turkey wasn’t going to carve itself and he was starving.


End file.
